Page 39 of Keeping a Warrior

With a watery laugh, Rhys moved aside to let him into their little huddle.

“I think we need something more. FNG!” Without missing a beat, Smudge reached out and hauled a startled Matt close.

Rhys wanted to laugh at the look on his face. “Where’d you come from?”

Matt’s eyes were wide as he looked from Smudge to Rhys and back again. “Um, a soda run?” he replied in the cautious tone of someone not quite sure he wasn’t being fucked with. “What’re we doing?”

“Man sandwich!” With that, Smudge tightened his arms and mashed all four of them together, with the shorter Matt in the middle of their impromptu group hug.

They were jostling him around when suddenly Rhys caught sight of Devon watching them from a short distance away, her lips quirked in inquiry. Before he could really think it through, he extended his hand to her.

Her gaze flew to his as she studied his expression. Then oh-so-slowly she stepped closer, reached out and laid her fingers lightly over his.

Rhys didn’t grip on to her, or pull her in. All he did was give her the gentlest of squeezes, and he felt like he’d won the lottery when she squeezed him back.

“See?” Aaron whispered in his ear. “Family.”

Early the next morning, Devon ran down the stairs toward the parking lot, her nervousness about the upcoming jump nothing compared to the anticipation of seeing Rhys again.

The fact was, she liked him. A lot. It’d been a long time since she’d felt comfortable being alone with a man, but he was very easy to talk to, and he wasn’t focused on how fast he could get into her pants.

When the guys came into view, Devon slowed to a walk. Rhys’s unmistakable red hair gleamed a burnished copper in the sunlight, and in his desert cammies and boots, his weapon and pack at his feet, he looked equal parts capable and dangerous. It made her belly quiver just the tiniest bit.

When he caught sight of her, he gave her a smile, and the quivers turned to butterflies.

“Morning,” he said. “You ready for this?”

“Ready,” she assured him. “Let’s do it.”

Once at the training center, the lead instructor took her aside. “Visualize each jump. Walk through everything in your mind—the way your gear should feel, your exit, what you do when you’re under canopy. Go over the emergency procedures and practice that shit until it’s all muscle memory. You got this.”

After that, Rhys worked to help her streamline her gear for fit and comfort, and when they finally boarded the aircraft, Devon was as confident as she’d ever been before a jump.

During takeoff and the climb to altitude, she sat quietly, envisioning every move she’d make from there to the ground. She studied Shane, who was sitting directly across from her. According to Matt he hated this, but hell if Devon could tell. His eyes were closed, his hands lying relaxed along his thighs, his head bobbing with the movement of the plane. What was he thinking about? What did he do to psych himself up?

She resolved to ask him at her earliest opportunity.

Matt was also watching him, an unguarded longing on his face that renewed Devon’s curiosity in their story. What’d happened between them? They made such an interesting couple—Shane, tall and movie-star gorgeous, and Matt, a compact bundle of muscle and intensity. For the most part they’d been ignoring each other, except for whatever communication was necessary during training, but Devon could sense that the tension was building.

Something was eventually gonna give way, and with a twin mixture of shame and amusement, she just hoped she had a ringside seat to the fireworks.

“Five minutes.”

The jumpmaster’s voice echoed in her earpiece, and with a loud, creaking groan, the ramp started to lower. Everyone got up to shuffle into position, Shane taking the lead once again. Rhys tapped her on the shoulder and gave her a wink and a thumbs-up.

“You got this,” he mouthed. “Get some.”

Devon’s exit was a thing of beauty. Back arched, head up, she flung herself into the void. When her feet touched Earth again, she let out a whoop of pure exultation. Guys jogged over for high fives, pride and admiration written all over their faces.

“Way to get back up there and crush that motherfucker,” Smudge exclaimed. “Hooyah!”

She could only grin like a fool.

It was a given they’d all go out to celebrate. A tremor of nervousness went through Devon as she stood in front of her room’s full-length mirror a short time later. Hanging out with a bunch of drunk men was something to be avoided at all costs.

Don’t let the fear run your life. Go out, have fun, be alert.

And carry a big-ass knife.